


This Sudden Storm

by Two_Candles



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alcohol, And the Tags, Canonical Character Death, Death of a loved one, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, One-Sided Brainstorm/Quark, Panic, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, or the equivalent, please heed the warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:15:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Candles/pseuds/Two_Candles
Summary: It's from a stranger that he learns that Quark is dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has got to be the third time I've sat down to write fluff and ended up writing misery instead. I swear I don’t mean to write about sad things! This just sort of came into my head when I was falling asleep, because apparently I deal with fear by writing about giant robots.  
>  **Warning!**  
>  _Heads up_ \- this is an intimate depiction of sudden, intense grief over the loss of a loved one, so if that sounds like it’ll give you a rough time, please skip this one.

When he hears about it, it’s from a stranger. They were never _close,_ despite his wishes to the contrary, so it seems that no one thought to let him know. And so Brainstorm finds out Quark is dead while eavesdropping on a group of passing scientists. _”-said it was Grindcore” ”-heard it from the project manager, HQ wasn’t sure who to notify-” “-terrible loss, he was so clever-”_

It’s like a cold knife to his spark. All his energon seems to have crystallized - he can’t move, can’t speak. He can hear them a little, still, chatting like it’s not important as they pass into the distance, but mostly all he can hear is a high whine like feedback. 

He’s not sure what happens next. When he knows himself again, he’s leaning against a wall, one arm stiff to brace himself while the other clutches at the plating over his spark. He’s leaving dents, he realizes dully. He can’t remember where he was going - can’t remember where he’s been, what’s expected of him, what experiments need tending. He heaves himself from the wall and staggers, joints stiff and creaking, towards his hab. 

He’d been hoping, he sees now, ever since he’d heard K’th Kensere had fallen. _He must have got away, he’s so small he wouldn’t have been noticed, I just haven’t heard yet, any day now I’ll turn a corner and he’ll be walking down the corridor, reading and paying no attention to his surroundings just like usual..._ Without intending it, without his knowledge, that little hope had lodged itself within him, nestled between spark and casing. 

He can’t remember the code for his hab door. He looks away, lets his hand enter the number his mind can’t recall, and stumbles through the door. It locks automatically behind him.

_Grindcore._ He’s sitting on the floor, under the desk, wingtips scraping the underside and raining little metal shavings down. _They said ‘Grindcore,’ didn’t they? Grindcore._ He doesn’t know much about it, maybe a little more than the average ‘bot, but what he knows is enough. _No weapons, no armor, not even a mobile altmode, and Grindcore-_ his vision wavers, multiple errors manifesting as he’s overwhelmed with thoughts of bitter cold, of torment and deprivation and horror. 

He has the sudden, startling realization that he’ll go mad if he continues this way. He reaches a hand up blindly, fumbles with a compartment in the desk, and pulls out a bottle. He doesn’t remember what it is, can’t read the label now, but the first taste proves it to be strong.

He’s still under the desk when Chromedome comes to his hab, hours later. He doesn’t bother knocking - Brainstorm hears him call softly _-I’m coming in-_ and the door beeps as the key code is entered. He hears shuffling, sees pedes that briefly pause to kick an empty bottle aside, then his friend’s face comes wobbling into view. 

“I only found out today myself,” Chromedome is saying, and Brainstorm hears the low rough tone more than the words. “High Command tried to contact his closest friends, apparently, but he - “ he breaks off, and his face disappears. More shuffling, and he’s on the floor too, seated close enough to touch, arms around his knees and gaze focused on the far wall.

“I know how much he meant to you,” he starts again. “I can’t pretend I understand that kind of loss-” and Brainstorm is suddenly laughing, a shrill, wild sound. His face is in his hands, and he can’t stop laughing, can’t stop shaking. He sees between his fingers that Chromedome is staring at him.

“No,” he says finally, choked and hoarse, “No I don’t suppose you would.” He can tell that Chromedome has attributed the outburst to hysteria, and for a spiteful moment he wants to tell him everything, remind his friend of his loss in the same shattering way he learned of his own. Instead he reaches up again, gropes around for a different, hidden drawer, and withdraws another bottle. He holds it out to Chromedome, who takes it gingerly.

“Is this what you were drinking?” He sounds a little shocked. Brainstorm gives a minute shake of his head.

“Dunno.”

Chromedome tilts the bottle from side to side. “You’ve already had more than enough,” he says, but Brainstorm knows him too well. After another moment Chromedome opens the bottle, opens his mask, and takes a drink. He sets the bottle down beside Brainstorm, who stares at it blearily for a moment before picking it up. His mask is already gone, removed at some point he doesn’t remember, and he takes a long drink that he doesn’t taste.

All that cycle, light to dark, they sit together in the silence of the darkened hab, drinking to forget what can’t be forgotten, what can’t be remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, my bros. I suck. Next thing I post will be fluffy, so help me. So, in writing this I assumed that Brainstorm was not already a double agent- we’re told that he became a double agent to get materials for his time machine, and he began that time machine in order to go back to save Quark - and so can safely remove his mask. I’m also assuming that Chromedome had already lost at least one Conjunx Endura at this point.


End file.
